Don't You Tiptoe, Tiptoe
by define-serenity
Summary: [Sebastian/Blaine] "Surprise," soon follows in a singsong voice. Turning, his eyes fall to the former foe standing across the street in all his 5'8 glory, in that signature tailored suit with the red pocket square, and that maddening mess of curls that his fingers raked through in fantasies he wouldn't admit to if his life came under threat.


**author's notes:** written for the **Seblaintine's 2018 BINGO.** Title taken from _Cake by the Ocean_ by DNCE.

 _._

 **Don't You Tiptoe, Tiptoe**

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Two large grocery bags crumpled up against his chest, Sebastian breathes in the cold outside air like oxygen he's needed all night. The mask and suit weighed heavy today, the phantom ache in his shoulders a reminder of all the responsibilities he carried as the Flash, as the city's sole defense against metahumans and other impossible threats.

Some days were easier than others, when the burn in his legs didn't mean running away but rather working toward something, and the twinge in his neck merely evidenced how many people's lives he'd touched in a meaningful way. Other days he wondered why he bothered at all, why he sacrificed so much and held onto so many secrets, only to come home to an empty apartment with ready-made meals he heated up in the microwave.

Rounding the final corner toward home, Sebastian freezes in his tracks.

Right there, on his doorstep, stood a large present in red wrapping, a huge yellow bow tied around it.

The Trickster, comes his first lightning thought, and he lowers the groceries to the ground.

Eyes intent on the package, he calculates the distance he could speed a bomb away from the city to do as little damage as possible, but he's no sooner had the thought or the lid blows off the package with great fanfare— and a gentle snowfall of forget-me-nots starts raining from the sky.

"What?" he whispers breathlessly, eyes narrowing as he inches a few steps closer, when the small petals start swirling upwards again, drawing shapes through the dark, mystifyingly settling into the words 'Be mine' in neat 5 by 10 inch lettering. Be mine? What's with this sickening display?

"Surprise," soon follows in a singsong voice, standing the hairs at the back of his neck on end, sending a shiver down his spine, settling a warmth smack between his shoulder blades.

Sebastian throws up his arms. "Of course it was you."

This is about the last thing he needs tonight.

Turning, his eyes fall to the former foe standing across the street in all his 5'8 glory, in that signature tailored suit with the red pocket square, and that maddening mess of curls that his fingers raked through in fantasies he wouldn't admit to if his life came under threat.

A little over two years ago, this soi-disant Music Meister appeared out of thin air and made the whole city dance to his tune, new to Earth and all its mortal delights. Under the Meister's spell Central City danced and sang their innermost feelings, leading to Adam and him serenading each other in the middle of the night.

It was the most they'd said to one another in three days, but it hadn't stopped Adam from moving to another city, far from The Flash and Sebastian Smythe and all the secrets he couldn't part with.

In the aftermath of that break-up, and a professed bettering of his ways, Music Meister set him up with one guy after the other, all Adam lookalikes, under the guise of not being able to stand the sight of a broken heart, or any of the upside down smiles that came with it. There'd been one guy who stood beneath his bedroom window holding a boombox over his head, and one covered in whipped cream that even turned his usually stoic face varying shades of red.

Music Meister believed he understood human love, and served it up to him on all but a platter.

Until, somehow, his affections hadn't so much focused on finding him love but rather shifted to winning him over himself, with the terrible puns and sweet confessions that went with it. For some reason or other, Music Meister took a liking to him, and hadn't wasted an opportunity since to let him know.

Whenever he tripped into this dimension, that is.

"Of course it was me?" Music Meister cocks an eyebrow, with an amount of sass unbecoming an extra-dimensional being. "That's it? I send you this lavish declaration of my love, and that's all you have to say?"

That's when he realizes.

It's February 14th.

And this flamboyant braggart had this thing with Earth holidays, especially if they happened to involve the opportunity to dote on someone. He should've seen this decadent reunion coming.

"I know I'm not exactly the latest teen heartthrob, but cut a guy some slack."

Please, Sebastian huffs, as if Music Meister isn't every bit aware of how good-looking he is, what with his raven hair and golden eyes like the sunset itself, not to mention that disarming smile that gets him out of trouble, yet somehow always leads to more trouble for him. He's a genuine trickster with that smile, and those lips, and if he didn't know any better he'd think himself hypnotized again, because all he can see is the two of them in some small backseat of a car neither of them owns, and those plump lips wrapped around his—

Music Meister traipses a step closer, a suggestive sway in his hips that erases any thoughts of blow jobs. He's only human; he can't help that his mind jumps to images of Music Meister's thighs wrapped around his waist.

"Come on, Flash," Music Meister's voice lowers to a whisper, making his moniker sound almost like a term of endearment. "What's it going to take?"

His lips part at the question, head cloudy with fantasy, but the Meister's speaking again before he gets the chance to give into them.

"Table for two?" he asks, before twirling a little tap dance. "Dinner and a movie? Cheesy pick-up lines? Naked, blindfolded and handcuffed to the bed?"

A breath hitches in his throat.

Well.

"Or some poetry, maybe!" Music Meister changes gears again and hops onto one of the benches by the side of the street, arms stretched wide as he orates, "Ever thine, ever mine, ever ours..."

"Stop!" he calls, at a sudden wits' end, "Please, just— stop."

He's not sure what this man's trying to accomplish, but he's certain he's not up for it— not tonight of all nights; he has no need for company in the shape of a happy-go-lucky space alien in love with the idea of love.

"What's the matter, chéri?" Music Meister jumps down from the bench and lands a few inches away, eyes dancing with mischief and a small twitch in his lips that promises a whole lot more where that came from. He wished his first instinct wasn't to fall into that headfirst.

"Do you really think any of this is going to work?"

"Well" –Music Meister purses his lips– "I'm no fortune teller, but—"

"Stop," he sighs, opposed to even hearing it. Love can't be boiled down to this, to expensive gifts and touching cards, to pet names or a night out on the town. It requires so much more than he's ever been able to give anyone, and it's only gotten worse since he put on the mask.

"Love isn't—"

He shakes his head. For a while there, with Adam, he got pretty close to something real. Or however real anything could get when one person in the relationship hid his true identity. He hadn't meant to; maybe if he'd met Adam sooner, before all the metahumans that'd tried to make his life a living hell, then maybe he could've come clean. Even now, he still likes to believe he kept Adam safe.

"It's not some fairytale," he says. "There are secrets and things left unsaid, apologies, and compromise."

"Hey, I'm not the bad guy." Music Meister flashes that troublesome smile, feigning surrender by raising his hands. "Not anymore."

No. That's probably him right at this moment; a villain, a man blind to what he had, deaf to Adam's problems, silent in the wake of his departure. For all the hard work he believed relationships to be, he'd done a poor job taking his own advice.

Music Meister wanders another step closer. "I may have some overly romantic notions about love, but I know hard work."

Golden eyes find his, and whatever edge they'd betrayed moments ago softens. It's startling how human he looks, all at once, behind the wise guy act.

"I know heartbreak," Music Meister says softly, "I know—"

For a moment or two Music Meister's gaze falters, and he reads the bob in his throat as his own heart's sharp edges. Who or what had this man from another dimension lost to turn him so listless? Could it be his exuberance was born from a place much darker than he imagined?

Then, his index and middle fingers hook onto the bottom of his jacket, tugging the hem once. Music Meister looks up at him again, his gaze so open and so soft he feels naked beneath it.

His chest tightens.

"It's Valentine's day, Sebastian Smythe," Music Meister says, voice as silky smooth as ever, "and Central City's very own Scarlet Speedster is spending it alone."

A smile slips across his mouth. That's hardly the first time. Being single on Valentine's day never bothered him before, and that's not about to start now. He's been so busy chasing bad guys some downtime on his own sounded a whole lot better than forcing any awkward situations.

This particular awkward situation, however, is starting to appear inescapable. Not only does Music Meister have his smart aleck routine down pat –the light on his feet, quick wit and suave charm– he's also the single most stubborn individual he's ever met.

He certainly knew how to stroke his ego.

"Why are you really doing this?"

"I like you." Music Meister tugs at his hem again, shrugging with one shoulder and avoiding his eyes as if a cheeky child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. It shouldn't tug at any muscles in his chest either, but it does.

"I wanted to impress you."

He chuckles. Because clearly being an immortal from a whole other dimension wasn't impressive enough.

What does it mean, to be liked by someone as out of this world as Music Meister? Is it even real, or some elaborate fantasy Music Meister set up for them in his imagination? Could it be at all possible this other worldly man gets lonely too?

"How about we just get some coffee?" the question slips past his lips like it'd been lying there in wait all along, abiding its time until the right moment came. He needs the caffeine either way, and the twinge in his neck has faded, so he sees no reason not to try and ease some of his own loneliness.

At least for tonight, he won't have to pretend to be someone he's not.

"C—coffee?" Music Meister stutters, eyes narrowing in something akin disgust. "Just coffee?"

Another smile slips defiantly into his lips. "It's a thing us mere mortals do."

"Coffee," the Meister states, taken aback by the simplicity of his proposal. "Coffee and small talk." His head tilts from one side to the other a few times as he mulls over the words, before smoothing both hands down his chest and buttoning up his jacket.

With that, a smile returns to Music Meister's face. "I suppose one must be adaptable."

Stifling a sigh over how bad an idea this could potentially turn out to be, he speeds upstairs and deposits the groceries in the kitchen, grabbing a quick change of clothes on his way out again.

"Can we hold hands?" is the first question out of Music Meister's mouth when he makes it downstairs again, while his eyes draw a lewd unimaginative line down his limbs.

At least he's not the only one swayed by lust.

He grins, ego soothed once more. "Don't push your luck, maestro," he says, nearly brought to his knees by the sullen gloom that washes down Music Meister's face.

Soon, they're walking side-by-side along the street, the last remnants of forget-me-nots dotting the sidewalk like snow, headed to the nearest –and best– coffeeshop in the city, lovingly named the Bean. It's a place that buzzed with a pleasant amount of customers talking in low voices, scented a mixture of coffee, chocolate and cinnamon, and always provided shelter on those cold fall and winter nights when a hot coffee could be substituted for a hug.

Music Meister slides up to the counter with his usual flair, and leans closer to the barista, fist propped under his chin. "We'll have— two Flashes with a shot of Courvoisier," –he winks– "and a piece of that red velvet cake with two forks."

Sebastian draws in a long steadying breath, and pulls two bills from his back pocket. "You know my coffee order?"

"I know a lot of your preferences, Sebastian." Music Meister smiles slyly, leering at him from beneath impossibly long eyelashes.

For the time being, he'll pretend it doesn't warm up his thighs.

Their coffees are presented in the Bean's big signature mugs, steaming hot and whimsical as they settle at a table for two, a small plate with cake between them.

Music Meister's eyes are immediately drawn to a couple sitting at the next table over, sharing a dessert as well, only eyes for each other— he remembers that kind of love, that kind of distraction, the purest kind there is; the world falls away and there's only you and your partner, troubles and responsibilities far from the mind.

"We don't have it, you know," Music Meister says.

"You don't have what?" he asks, attention skipping between Music Meister and the young couple holding hands.

"Others like me. We don't have— love."

His lips part and Music Meister steals his undivided attention, not just because of the confession, but the revelation that there are others like Music Meister out there. Were they all the same colorful characters?

"Omniscience. Omnipotence." Music Meister shrugs. "No love. Not the way humans seem to experience it."

"Then how do you—?"

"We just do!" Music Meister beams, with the sort of bristling excitement far more becoming his disposition, and infectious if he were any more susceptible to it. "No mothers or fathers, sons or daughters. We just exist."

A world without love? Is that even possible? If there are others like him it stands to reason there are some types of relationships or hierarchy. Or does it? What about physical intimacy? Orgasms? What fresh hell did he crawl out of?

As much as he's avoided dating these past few months, reluctant to draw yet another innocent person into his world of secrecy, he can't imagine going without love, not having grown up with it, not being able to rely on it when times get tough.

Sebastian stares down at his coffee. What did Music Meister hope to accomplish by confessing this? Show him how lucky he is? Because he does want something real, he wants that purest kind of love that becomes a second skin, with someone he doesn't have to hide from, someone he can be honest with.

But that starts with being honest with himself.

"And you think you love me."

"The heart wants what the heart wants," Music Meister sings, a song from his youth, and a laugh escapes him involuntarily. It's all sort of embarrassing, being out in public with a man as flamboyant as the Trickster himself, a man he's attracted to even if he should know better. This can't possibly lead to anything real.

"I do." Music Meister falls forward, arms folded under the table. His eyes burn big again, while the rest of him grows distinctly more vulnerable. "From your big ego down to your selfless heroism. How you overcome fear in the face of danger.

"And, ugh, that voice of yours," the Meister turns on the compliments, "Chills."

He goes hot behind the ears thinking of how he'd tap danced through the streets as The Flash and sung to his heart's content. Once the spell had been broken it took most of the city's population three days before they could look each other in the eye again without remembering all the embarrassing musical displays.

"I like everything about you, Sebastian," Music Meister says, his name somehow different on those lips, something to be worshipped, won, cherished. "You are so—"

Music Meister's eyes skip to the table, as if whatever word he's looking for will fail to encompass all he means to say. "Devastatingly," he stresses, before his eyes find his again and he could swear there's an actual sunset moving animatedly inside them, "wonderfully human."

Whatever sound he'd hoped to make dies at the back of his throat, drowning in Music Meister's spellbinding eyes, warm like chocolate, dark like bitter coffee, yet shining somehow, with whole universes unexplored.

It isn't the first time he hears it; Supergirl said the same thing not too long ago, but save for her DNA, Marley was as human as any of them, if not more, with her cute smile and big heart, her devotion to her family and friends.

So he doesn't know what it implies, to be human. All he knows is that he likes it falling from Music Meister's lips, how it's wonderful and devastating at the same time, even if that makes little sense.

There's little sense to Music Meister to begin with.

Right before his eyes the room changes, the Bean shifting like the turn of a kaleidoscope, all its colors twisting and blending together until he can no longer distinguish between them, and he forces his eyes closed to stave off nausea. There's a strong tug at his waist before he's standing, and the motion sickness dissipates.

Slowly, the dizziness wears off, and he opens his eyes.

"Wh—" he wheezes, and trips a step back, caught off guard by the chair that's disappeared from underneath him.

Ocean waves. Warm breeze. Three suns setting in the far distance.

Three? Suns?

Large bay windows look out over a small cove, a private indent along a mauve shoreline, and he can taste some type of jasmine incense.

"We said no more hypnotizing!"

"Oh, that's not what this is," Music Meister's voice sounds next to him, his eyes turned golden in the glow of the dimming sun. "This is a private getaway where the sun is only ever setting, and the parties last from dusk 'til dawn."

Cued in on his rising panic, Music Meister turns to him with worry. "I thought we were having a moment," he says, as if it serves as some sort of an explanation for why he's been whisked away to some fantasy world where there's no longer any coffee at hand. He's all for surprises but taking away his caffeine seems like a step too far.

"We were," he admits, before considering what exactly he's gotten himself into. His suggestion to get coffee wasn't some precursor to a date, no matter how often he's fantasized about the two of them in varying stages of undress, wrapped up in each other on the couch, fighting crime side by side.

Sebastian blinks a few times. He's given this far too much thought.

"It's okay if you don't like me back," Music Meister says, and shrugs, hands in his pockets, legs crossing at the ankles as he stares down at his feet. "Unrequited love and I are old friends."

Even in this downtrodden state Music Meister manages to look stunning, like some model wandered off the front page of a fashion magazine, and it pinches at his heart harder than he'll ever admit. It makes no sense for him to care, or maybe it makes all the sense in this world and the next one over.

Maybe he has forget-me-not petals stuck in his eyes and ears and they've been migrating to his brain for the past hour, because next thing he's saying, "It's not that I don't like you,"

—and he understands exactly why Adam left.

For once –and that's not saying much– he's not the one lying about his true identity, hiding behind a mask or a slick smile, or this whole bon-vivant attitude.

"You never show me the real you," he says, words weighing as heavy on his tongue as the world did on his shoulders. Did he need this?

Music Meister draws a step closer.

And a breath catches in his throat.

"I'm just an extra-dimensional being," he says, quoting some cheesy movie his mom forced him to watch many years ago, and he barely resists the urge to roll his eyes. This man is as impossible as the Speed Force coursing through his veins, with the sunset in his eyes and entire universes at his fingertips—

"standing in front of a boy,"

–and he's none too sure this was a good idea, if letting Music Meister in will make his stalking worse or if all their confessions tonight might make their stage play into something real. Does he want this?–

"asking—"

Oh, what the hell.

Casting any further doubt aside he leans in and pushes his lips to Music Meister's, who gives a little squeak before sighing contently and melting into his chest.

Two warm hands dig into his waist while his cup around Music Meister's face and their lips part in a breath. Warmth spreads up his spine and in his chest and down his legs and if at all possible Music Meister trips even closer– his licks into the shorter's mouth, teasing against his tongue, earning himself a moan in the process.

He smiles into the kiss, their mouths turning into a tangled slip-slide, infused with the absolute titillating sensation of being kissed for the first time ever.

Maybe there's something to this extra-dimensional thing, after all.

They pull away from each other the exact moment they run out of air to breathe, their foreheads settling together, both of them gasping for breath.

"Love is in the air," Music Meister sings, and with a snip of his fingers hearts start dancing circles around their heads.

Sebastian rolls his eyes, before bringing their mouths together again.

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 **fin**

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End file.
